


fondre

by sierraadeux



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-15 02:54:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29182098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sierraadeux/pseuds/sierraadeux
Summary: “I want to be soup,” Phil announces unceremoniously.
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Comments: 30
Kudos: 132





	fondre

**Author's Note:**

> this is nothing, really, just realized how many docs in my fic folder were collecting cobwebs after doing that wip ask game on tumblr yday and thought i'd at least send this one off into the universe

“I want to be soup,” Phil announces unceremoniously. He groans a little with it, rolling forward in Dan’s—or theirs, it’s really all theirs—weird desk chair and leaning his forehead against the bright computer monitor. 

“Hey,” Dan says gently. Phil can hear him shuffling around from his near-horizontal position on the sofa, where he’s been since he was exiled to two feet away, Phil commandeering his desktop to finish clipping together an actual nightmare of a spon deal. 

He had tried working from his actual office, thought he could kick himself right out of pajama week and into productivity mode if he was in a space designated for work, but that was destined to fail. 

Somehow— _god_ , somehow—it’s still possible to miss the guy he spends nearly every hour of every day with. He trudged back up to the lounge with his tail between his legs, biting his lip as he asked if Dan could go over his edits on his laptop, if they could just sit in the comfortable quiet of each other’s presence and click and tap away at their individual work. 

It had worked, at least, the file now chugging along as it processes. But Phil feels the hours—days, weeks, years—of work heavy on his shoulders. Too heavy to feel accomplished with this particular task.

There’s the sound of Dan snapping his laptop shut, bare feet against hardwood floors. Then, there’s big hands at his achy shoulders. Phil would melt into them if he could. 

“I’ve told you not to do that,” Dan’s voice is soft, he’s telling him off but his voice is soft. He tugs, squeezes a little at Phil’s shoulders to pull him back up. “Gonna get your forehead grease all over my monitor.” 

“Don’t have forehead grease.” Phil pouts, pliant in Dan’s hands. His head falls back against the back of the chair, and Phil presses a little further to look up at his boyfriend—or fiancé, technically. Husband on a good day, arch nemesis on the best. 

Boyfriend is nice though, not as nice as just _his Dan_ , but he likes the way it sounds. That’s Phil’s boy, and that’s Phil’s best friend. It just works. 

“Yes you do.” Dan smiles, taking a hand from Phil’s shoulder and pulling down his sleeve to wipe at Phil’s forehead—little groans and mumbles and wiggles of protest ignored. He follows it with a kiss, bending down and staying there to peer at the computer screen.

A few more absentminded kisses are pressed at Phil’s hairline as he assesses his progress, like the action is merely second nature. 

“You’ve got it done.” Dan gives his shoulder a squeeze as he stretches back up. 

“At the price of: brain is soup,” Phil says. 

“I thought you _wanted_ to be soup.” Dan lifts a brow, the corner of his mouth tugging up. Though the soft look of concern doesn’t leave his eyes. 

“Yeah,” Phil hums, closing his eyes. They burn as he does, little square spots of white dancing behind his eyelids. “Want to, like, marinate. Melt away,” he mumbles, mostly nonsensical, but it sounds _so, so_ good. 

“Are you asking me to run you a bath, or get the water going on the hob?” Dan’s thumbs press circles into the tangled knots at his shoulders. “Think we’ve got some onions and carrots I could dice up, get a real stock going. You might be a touch too salty though.” 

“Can we buy a hot tub?” Phil asks the second the thought flashes through his brain. He nearly starts to melt at the idea—the steaming water, the pulsing jets, the chilled fresh air on his face while he remains toasty warm, Dan all wet and pruney by his side. _Heaven._

“No we cannot,” Dan snorts. “You’ve got half of London’s pigeon population on the balcony, and I don’t think you’re prepared to start evicting to make space.” 

“No,” Phil hums in agreement, shaking his head. “No, I’m not an evil landlord.” 

“ _All_ landlords are evil.” 

Phil opens his eyes at that, affronted. “Not me!” 

Dan huffs, shaking his head. “If you were a landlord, you’d be evil,” he explains, running his fingers through Phil’s floppy quiff over and over. “You’re more of, like, a pigeon lord. It’s ethically… less reprehensible.” 

A wide smile tugs across Phil’s lips—one Dan would probably refer to as evil. “So you’re saying you _don’t_ hate the pigeons.” 

Dan rolls his eyes, giving Phil a little shove. “Not fond of the shit on our patio furniture, but I love anything that makes you happy.” He squeezes at Phil’s shoulder, smiling all fond. “Unfortunately,” he tacks on, the least bit convincing. 

“You make me happy.” 

“Mm, self love. Well good at that.” Dan makes an obscene gesture, makes them both laugh until they wheeze. 

“Do you actually want me to run you a bath though?” Dan asks once it’s died down, going back to trying to unwind all of Phil’s tight spots. “I just bought some new melts and fizzy crystal bits from this holistic small shop, supposed to be all good for the earth and your bits.” Dan shrugs as he kneads into Phil’s shoulder. “It smells nice, at least.” 

“Do you want to, like, fuck off?” Phil breaks through Dan’s babbling, on a whole other train of thought. At an entirely different station, really. 

“Oof.” Dan pulls his hands away. “Okay, grumpy.” There’s a soft creak in the floor as he takes a step back.

Phil shakes his head. “No, no,” he says as he spins the chair around, looking up at Dan. “I meant, do you want to go somewhere?” 

Dan’s cocked head straightens out, the confusion on his face replaced with something a little dark as he smirks. “Bedroom?” he asks, voice low. 

It drives Phil a little crazy how he’s still able to elicit that reaction after all these years, but not enough to derail him. 

“ _Go_ somewhere,” Phil repeats. “A holiday, or something.” 

“ _Oh_.” Dan chews at his bottom lip as it registers, as he mulls it over. It takes all of three seconds. “We could use a _real_ break.” 

“Exactly." 

A look of determination takes over Dan’s face, and he spins Phil right around in his chair, pressing up against him to click open a new tab. 

“So, where are we going?” 

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr!](https://sierraadeux.tumblr.com/post/642127841624031232/fondre-t-1061-words-danphil-summary-i-want-to) if u wanna like, maybe cyberbully me into maybe actually writing vacation fic.. french alps on the brain.. i have.... ideas... no words.. but ideas...


End file.
